Caput Draconis
by StrangerWithMyFace
Summary: Shy Ginny Weasley is sent on a mission to locate Draco Malfoy for the Ministry but there's more to the task than meets the eye.
1. Should You Choose to Accept It

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DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling created the characters, settings and events of the _Harry Potter _novels. I'm borrowing them and forcing them to do my bidding. Apologies to her, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Brothers and a bunch of others because they own _Harry Potter_ and I don't. I'm not making any money of this. No copyright infringement intended. No animals harmed in the making of this fiction.

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NOTES: I'm super-grateful to Fearthainn who beta read for me. And to wmlaw and FireSprite who read it and encouraged me. Also all my livejournal friends who aided me in my search for a title. 

* * * 

Lord Voldemort was defeated. It was all Harry Potter's doing, of course. The Death Eaters were facing dark times. 'The Death Eater Trials," as _the Daily Prophet _christened them, were nothing short of a three ring circus. People weren't afraid anymore. The threat had been removed. Public outrage was at a fevered pitch. They actually hurled small objects at Walden MacNair as he was lead into the court room. They were out for blood and the Ministry of Magic was more than happy to oblige. Anyone remotely associated with Voldemort and his plans went straight to Azkaban. There was no leniency. No mercy. They had let them go once, and they weren't about to let it happen again. 

Aurors were in high demand these days. They were always running about, doing something daring and exceptionally dangerous in order to catch the friend of the sister of the guy who put that curse on that guy that time. Sometimes they were a tad overeager. They all thought they were James Bond. It was a running gag in wizarding circles, which was certainly funnier than the "How many Aurors does it take to light a candle?" bit. That was getting old fast. 

The Auror Academy was filled to the brim with wide-eyed recruits. They all hoped they'd be the one to catch a Dark Wizard right in Voldemort's inner circle. Of course there weren't very many of those left, so there was a great deal of competition among the trainees. Many of them continued to adhere to Hogwarts House lines out of habit. Gryffindors tended to be the loudest and most daring of the lot. They felt they had a leg up as Harry Potter himself had been in _their _house. 

Ravenclaws would scornfully point out that so was Ezekiel Crowley. And he had managed to set himself on fire whenever he came near a Death Eater. No one could figure out how. Most Gryffindors would pointedly ignore this logic. There was always a black sheep, after all. 

There was, however, one Gryffindor who couldn't help but doubt her talents. She had always been small. She had never excelled at much of anything. And she had this pesky habit of always needing to be saved. 

Ginny Weasley always walked down the Academy halls with her head down, praying she wouldn't trip or bump into anyone. She did that a lot. When she got nervous she tended to be a bit of a klutz. She'd do things like put her arm in butter when boys she liked were around. It was very embarrassing. When someone would call on her in class, she'd become red-faced and stutter over her answers. Professors couldn't understand why she was so frightened all the time. She was very bright and those answers were almost always correct. Yet she'd never volunteer them unless pressured. 

People wondered why she had decided to go into Auror training. If there was one job one needed to be forward and decisive in it was this one. She was the complete opposite of the stereotypical Auror in the jokes. At best, all Ginny'd ever be suited for was a desk job (Something "real" Aurors scorned.) even though she would be at the top of her class, if for the obstacle courses. 

Aurors in training were expected to run obstacle courses to prove their ability in the field. Large cardboard cut outs of bad guys would jump out at them and the Auror needed to handle them appropriately. Ginny knew what she was _supposed _to do better than anyone else. The problem was the Professors. They stood there and just stared at her. They made little marks on their parchment whenever she made a move. It made her nervous, which, in turn, made her make silly mistakes. 

Everyone shook their heads sadly as she emerged from the training area. They wanted to see her do well. She was a Weasley after all. Her father was one of the higher ups in the Ministry. Her whole family had been a rock during the crisis. And her brother, Ron, had been instrumental in taking out Voldemort. He was Harry Potter's right hand man. Everyone knew that. But it seemed all the family's nerve had been tapped out when Ginny was born because she just didn't have what it took. 

There was no point in giving her "helpful hints" or telling her what she had done wrong. Ginny already knew. She'd spend the entire day in her dormitory berating herself. She was harder on herself than anyone else was. Often the other girls who lived with her could hear her sobbing throughout the night. She wanted to do well. She wanted to be like her brothers. She wanted to prove everyone wrong. She just _couldn't _no matter how hard she tried. 

When he came to the Academy earlier that year, Oliver Wood had taken a particular interest in Ginny. He had quit Puddlemere after discovering second rate Quidditch players didn't get paid very well. He had decided to pursue another interest of his: ordering people around. At Hogwarts, he had been famous for his militant style of Quidditch practice. Players were the first one up and last ones to bed on practice days. Fred and George Weasley still insisted that they hadn't properly recovered. 

Wood was something of a drill sergeant at the Academy. He shouted a great deal. He had his own office. And he had the power to make students run laps. (That was his favorite part.) All in all, it was a great job for him. It gave him a great sense of satisfaction when he saw kids he had harassed on the cover of _the Daily Prophet _after they became heroes for catching dark wizards. Some called him sadistic. Others just called him Wood. 

"Weasley," he said one day. Ginny was walking down the hall with her head down. She jumped to a rather impressive height when he said her name. 

Ginny smoothed her robes with shaking hands and tried to be polite. "Yes?" 

"I'd like to see you in my office later, if that's ok." Wood was careful not to make it sound like she was in trouble because then she'd probably cry and he had a thing against crying. 

She nodded hastily. "Okay," she replied. He could see the wheels turning in her head. She was trying to figure out what he wanted. When he didn't offer to specify, she turned and quickly left. She got out of his sight in record time. He made a mental note that she was quick and retired to his office. 

* * * 

"I have an assignment for you, Weasley," Wood announced loudly as he threw a roll of parchment down with a 'thud' in front of her. She winced. Ginny was never one for theatrics. 

"An assignment?" she repeated tentatively. 

"Yeah," Wood answered, "it's your last year at the Academy. All students have to do some field work to prove they're not completely brain dead. You know, so we feel confident in releasing them to the world. You have to prove that you won't poke yourself in the eye with your wand, stuff like that." 

Ginny laughed half-heartedly. He made it sound easy, whatever it was. And if it was going to the library and finding out information it would be but she got the feeling that it wasn't. Suddenly, her fingers were twitching. She fidgeted a lot when she was nervous. She sat on her hands in an effort to hide them from Wood. It was very uncomfortable. 

"Have you been reading about the trials in the paper?" he asked. 

She nodded. Everyone had, especially today. It was one of the biggest news events of the year. Death Eater Peter Pettigrew had been sent to Azkaban yesterday. The courtroom was packed with witches and wizards trying to get a good look at the traitor as the witnesses recounted his sordid tale. In the end, he had been convicted on no less that 14 charges: 1 count of murder, 2 counts of conspiracy to murder, 1 count of kidnapping, 3 counts of assault, evading arrest, conspiracy, fraud, breaking and entering, improper Animagus registration, misuse of magic around Muggles and finally one count of theft. (Sirius Black's big motorbike was missing. He knew Pettigrew hadn't stolen it but, hell, he hadn't killed Lily and James and someone was going to pay.) 

"All the real Aurors are out looking for wanted men. Really busy. So the Academy has to step up in handling some of the leg work. There's someone I need you to find." Ginny paled. "I know what you're thinking, he's not a Death Eater. We wouldn't send a full fledged Auror out to catch one of them on her own let alone an Academy student. He gave the Ministry some information awhile back. They want him to testify at trail. But they, er, _misplaced _him. He went into hiding, from the Death Eaters, of course. You just have to dig him up." 

Ginny nodded vacantly. She hadn't heard any of the other trainees talking about doing anything like this. "Why me?" she asked meekly. 

"Well for starters, you're smart. You're resourceful. You're about his age. And, most importantly, you're here." He grinned. "As I said, everyone's busy." 

"So..." Ginny wobbled from side to side. She wasn't sure she could handle this kind of pressure. "All I have to do is find him?" 

"Yep." 

"Who him?" she asked, then blushed deep crimson. "I mean, who _is _he?" 

"Draco Malfoy." 

* * * 

Ginny walked back to her dormitory feeling as low as she ever had. She didn't feel up to the task at hand. She wanted to ask for another assignment but knew that wouldn't go over well with the higher-ups. You had to take orders to be a good Auror. But she didn't even know where to begin to look for Draco. If the Death Eaters couldn't find him then she didn't know what made Wood think she would be able to. They were much more experienced wizards than she. And they used shifty methods. 

Secondly, she wasn't sure she _wanted _to find Draco Malfoy. He was a horrible pain in the ass. She couldn't count the number of times he had made her cry at Hogwarts. (Not that it was hard to do. He always seemed to glean particular satisfaction out of it though.) Even if he had helped the Ministry that didn't mean he was any different. He had probably just sold Voldemort out in hopes of making _him _cry. Ginny was certain she'd would be perfectly happy if Draco Malfoy stayed 'misplaced' forever. 

When she reached her room, she sat on the bed, drew the curtains around her and sighed. She hadn't the foggiest idea how she would go about finding him. She lay down, stared at the ceiling, and tried to think of something. But no ideas came. She felt as though there was a big, brick wall between her and Draco. No matter how much she looked, there was no way through it. 

She sighed again, thinking of all the terrible things that would happen if she didn't. Oh, she hoped she wouldn't be expelled. She'd never be able to outlive the shame... 

* * * 

Ginny was right. Locating Draco did not prove to be an easy task. She tried locator spells but they didn't work. He must've taken measures to ensure that he couldn't be found by the Death Eaters and was, in the process, keeping her away too. So Ginny went to the library to research other possible methods of finding him. She liked the library. The books seldom bothered her. They sometimes got in bad tempers but were rarely short with _Ginny _since she was always polite to them and never dog-eared their pages or spilled hot drinks on them. 

She found an interesting spell in which she had to hold a crystal over a map and it would point to his location. It was interesting but not very useful. The crystal whirled around in circles, never pausing over any one spot. When the crystal started to show off by doing a dance that resembled the tango, Ginny had to put it away. She didn't need uppity pieces of rock in her life. 

Then she tried sending out an owl for him. Oftentimes, owls could find people when wizards could not. Ginny had never heard of one failing to deliver its post even when the weather was atrocious. She wrote a very simple note, "_Ministry would like to speak with you. Return owl expected. Sincerely, G. Weasley, Auror." _After a bit of inward debate she crossed out the 'auror' part since it wasn't technically true. Then after a bit more debate she crossed out the 'Weasley' part since Malfoy had never been fond of the Weasley family. 

Only about an hour after Ginny released the owl it returned. It still had the unopened letter attached to its leg. The owl glared at her in a disgruntled sort of way as though she had asked it to fly to Mars and make it snappy, please. She took the letter back while mumbling something about "useless owls." It nipped her finger for her trouble and flew away before she could ask it to deliver a letter to a wild goose. 

That night she was lying awake in bed, thinking. She thought a lot before she went to bed. She had some of her best ideas there. It occurred to her that she should ask some of his friends if they had been in contact with them. The only people she could ever remember him associating with at Hogwarts were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Both were now awaiting sentencing in local lock-up. It wasn't really a good thing. But at least they weren't in Azkaban already... 

Ginny went to visit Goyle the very next day. It was a very awkward meeting. Lots of guards buzzed around, speaking in hushed tones. They were, no doubt, wondering why she would ever what to speak with Goyle. She knew because they asked repeatedly. She had to state her reasons for the interview more times than she could count. And they frisked her which wasn't fun at all and made her blush a deep crimson. 

It really wasn't worth all the trouble she went through. Goyle wasn't helpful at all. He grunted menacingly when the guards led him out once he recognized who she was. He grunted menacingly as he sat down in case she hadn't heard him before. 

"Er, Goyle? I was wondering," she tried to sound casual, "have you, by chance, heard from Draco Malfoy recently?" 

Goyle grunted menacingly when Draco's name was mentioned. "No." He proceeded to grunt menacingly a bit more, just for good measure. 

The interview with Crabbe was considerably less useful, if that were at all possible. At least Goyle had given her some type of verbal response. Whereas, Crabbe just grunted menacingly. 

Finally, all Ginny could do was return to the library, keep searching and try her best not to cry. And eventually, her tenacity and not crying paid off. She found a dusty, old book on locating missing persons. It was supposed to be used for law enforcement should some witch or wizard be kidnapped. And it could only be opened by a certified Auror. Ginny got Wood to do it for her. He was busy making people run laps and didn't have time to chat, but he seemed quite pleased that she had figured it all out. He winked at her and said, "On the case, eh, Weasley?" She wasn't sure what that meant but he sounded chipper as he said it so she took it as a good sign. 

It took her a very long time, but eventually she cracked it. Ginny was immensely pleased with herself. She felt the same way she had when she had beat Ron at wizard chess after losing to him every other time they had ever played. She conveniently put the thought of actually having to converse with Draco Malfoy out of her head as she went to collect him. No point in sullying her good mood. 

* * * 

Her search ended in a most surprising place. It was a small town, if you could even call it that. She had never heard of it before. No one she spoke to had ever heard of it either. According to her information, the population was a dozen people. But after arriving and looking around for a bit, Ginny knew they were counting dogs as well. There were very few people around at all. It seemed the perfect place to go if you were hiding out. 

The town mostly consisted of long expanses of over-grown grass. There weren't even trees to dot the landscape, just a few unkempt shrubs that blew about in the wind. It was a particularly breezy day. The wind was moist. It made your clothes feel slightly damp after you had been outside long enough. But it wasn't quite wet enough to say that it was raining and an umbrella wouldn't do any good anyway. 

The house that purported to be Draco's was not at all what she would associate with the name 'Malfoy.' For one thing, it was a small dwelling. It was nothing compared to Malfoy Manor. He probably had larger closets at home. It wasn't much to look at either. It was made of some old, rotting wood that didn't look as though it could withstand the wind. It was a wonder of carpentry. Ginny figured the only reasons it was still standing were a wish and a prayer. As she approached the house, Ginny noticed that there was only one window. It was covered over with what looked like dust. She couldn't see inside. The door was made of the same rotting wood as the rest of the house. The only reason you could tell it was a door was because it was rectangular shaped. There was a small carving in the middle of it, a half moon that must've been used as a peep hole. 

Ginny peered in through the half moon. It was dark inside, she couldn't see any movement at all. She reached up and knocked on the door. Then she waited. Then she knocked again and waited some more. She tried to magic the door open, but the "alohomora" spell had no effect. Frustrated, she stomped her feet on the ground. After fifteen minutes of this she had to face facts. He either wasn't home or wasn't going to answer the door. 

Why did nothing ever work out for her? This was the last option she had. If he wasn't here then she didn't know what she would do. She felt the urge to cry rising up in her. She struggled to keep it suppressed. She sank to the ground and pulled her legs up to her chest to keep out the wind. Maybe he was just out, that annoyingly optimistic voice in her head whispered. All you have to do is wait until he comes back. Ginny really didn't want to do this. It was cold and windy. But she couldn't think of any better ideas. She didn't want to have to go back to Wood's office and say she couldn't complete the task. That would be just too mortifying. Worse, than say getting a little wet. As long as she didn't cry, she'd be all right. The last thing she needed now was for Malfoy to pop up while she was sobbing on his doorstep. She'd rather face Wood. 

So she sat there. She wasn't sure how much time went by. She hadn't a watch. Despite the wet wind, it wasn't that bad. Ginny rather liked sitting alone, being left to her own devices. She was free to let her mind wander to the most obscure places. And no one ever made her feel uncomfortable or unworthy. If she could've, she would've lived inside her head. 

Ginny was so engrossed in her musings, she all but jumped out of her skin when she heard something whirling inside the house. She pressed her ear to the door. It sounded like it was spinning really fast, whatever it was. She knew she had heard the sound before but couldn't quite place it. She was busy trying to work it out in her mind when the door was abruptly yanked out from under her. She fell forwards, across the threshold with a yelp of surprise. 

It was then that she got her first look at him. He was tall and lean, as always. He appeared even taller from her place on the floor. And his white blond hair shone in the darkness of the house as if on its own accord. But that wasn't the part that made her go wide-eyed. It wasn't the only thing that glinted in the darkness. She wasn't staring at his hair but at the large, hunting knife in his hand. Even more unnerving was the fact that he wielded it with the practiced grace of someone who used it regularly. 

"Get out of here," he barked.

* * * 


	2. Born to Run

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DISCLAIMER: Characters not mine. See chapter 1 for more details. 

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NOTES: Thanks to Fearthainn and Liz, my betas and to all those who reviewed chapter one. 

* * * 

Ginny stared unblinking at the knife in Draco's hand. For a split second she thought she could see her life flash in the steel of the blade. Was this where it all ended? She struggled so hard for so long to find him and this was her reward? If her brain had been functioning the words 'not fair' would've sprung to mind. 

He pointed the knife toward, like it was an extension of his own arm. "Get out of here," he said again. She didn't hear him. She was busy contemplating how sharp the knife was. That point literally hung over her head. He only had to take two steps - maybe less - toward her and it would all be over. That was the power of the blade. She flinched involuntarily. 

Sometimes when she was cooking and she'd have a near miss with the knife. Then it would occur to her that she could've hurt herself. She could've killed herself. That alternate reality would play out in her head, as if it really _had _happened. And she'd have to stop because she was shaking. It was those moments when she really know that she was mortal. That she was inches away from death at every moment. But she had never felt it like this before. Before it had been "I could've died" and now it was "I could die." 

If there had ever been a time in her life where she really deserved to cry, this was it. But she didn't. She just stared at Malfoy mutely and he yelled at her and made wild gesticulations with his knife. He was very angry. Every second that she sat there, staring up at him, he got angrier. She was too dumbstruck to move. 

And then, to Ginny's unending relief, he stopped. He didn't yell. He didn't wave his arms, and more importantly, he didn't wave the knife. In fact, he didn't move a muscle. For a moment she worried he had some kind of fit. What else could explain his sudden change in behavior? But it turned out to be just another event in the very long list of strange things that had happened that day. 

When Ginny looked closer she noticed that he appeared to be listening for something. She couldn't fathom what it would be. Very little could be heard over the wind. And there wasn't exactly a lot going on in the tiny town. She imagined when someone slammed a door around these parts, it was a big deal.

All too soon, Ginny figured out what it was Draco was listening for. She blinked her eyes against the water in the wind. To her surprise, when she opened them again there were three women standing behind Draco. She gasped in astonishment. It was always a shock when people suddenly appeared, even to those wizards used to Apparating. And to top it off, she hadn't heard the 'pop' that normally accompanies Apparating. They had appeared without warning. 

She felt very small in front of the women. Ginny had always been petite. People often mistook her for an adolescent. It made her feel three inches tall when they told her, which was exactly how she felt in front of these women. It wasn't just because they were above average height. It was that _everything about them _was above average. They were beautiful. One might even say perfect. It was to the point where it was unnerving. They just couldn't be natural. 

They were like Veelas in many respects. They held themselves with an air of superiority and were undeniably attractive despite the danger. But these women were the opposite of Veelas in many ways as well. They had long, dark hair and snowy skin where Veelas were at the other end of the spectrum. The pitch black robes they wore seemed to move with them, like they were merely an extension of their bodies. 

Draco looked on them with undisguised hatred. His whole body tensed as though he had been struck. It wasn't until the women turned to acknowledge Ginny that she understood his apprehension. It was their eyes. Perfect, full eye lashes framed nothing but a pure white retina. They had no pupils. Ginny doubted they could truly see anything with such eyes. Foolishly, she wondered if they were lost. Maybe she could help them find whatever it was they were looking for? 

It was the menacing way they held themselves that kept Ginny quiet. She knew, in the back of her head, that they weren't human. Yet she couldn't think of any other creature they could possibly be. She had learned about a wide variety of species at Hogwarts and none of them were like this...

What happened next unfolded so quickly, Ginny didn't have time to do any further reflection. A split second after the women had appeared, Draco lunged forward at them, slashing horizontally with his knife. The women stepped back to avoid the blade, all the while they kept their white eyes locked on Draco, not betraying an ounce of fear. The four of them moved, Ginny thought, as if they were dancing not really fighting. Perhaps she just had difficulty accepting the fact that there was a knife fight happening right before her eyes or maybe it was because the four combatants had such a practiced air about them as if they all knew exactly what they were supposed to do. 

One of the women grabbed Draco's knife arm with a claw-like hand and tried to pull him toward her. He introduced his elbow to her face. The woman didn't reel backwards or even flinch; she took the hit better than Ginny would've taken a bug flying into her face. She was, however, forced to let go of Draco's knife arm. He had always been quick and agile. Ginny remembered what a fine Seeker he had been for the Slytherin Quidditch team. With the same graceful movements he used to snatch the snitch out of the air, he whirled around and struck the one who had grabbed him again. This time he hit her hard enough to force her head to the side. He used this opportunity to bury his knife into the side of her neck with one even stroke. 

The other women cried out in rage. They flew to their fallen sister's aid. Each grabbed one of Draco's arms and tried to pull him away from her. He kicked them each in the shins, knocking them off balance, and twisted free. He returned to the one he had stabbed as though nothing had happened. He continued to hack away at her neck until her head was severed from her body. Ginny watched, horrified, as pools of dark green blood poured from her veins. It smelled rather like the frog pond by the Burrow and confirmed Ginny's suspicions. They were not human. 

As soon as the head was free from the body, Draco stood up. He watched, unmoved, as the corpse began to blur around the edges. Ginny felt her own eyes go wide. It turned into a misty substance and then just sank into the Earth as if she had never been there at all. The only testament to her existence was the enraged shrieks coming from her sisters and the way Draco continued to stare ominously at the spot she once occupied. 

The remaining two women dove at Draco. Before they could grab him again, he turned, produced his wand from inside his robes, pointed it at the grassy ground in front of them and shouted, "_Incendio!" _all in one fluid motion. Immediately, large flames leapt face -high from the ground creating a barrier between Draco and the women. They hissed at him from behind the crackling flames. He gave them a stony glare in return. The light of the fire dances across his pointed face, creating a frightening mix of dark shadows and pale, white skin and hair. 

Calmly, Draco placed his wand back in his pocket and held his knife in his outstretched hand, letting the two know that they were about to meet the same fate as the other one. 

That they did. Draco pounced on them, making quick work of cutting their heads off. Ginny wasn't sure what was scarier: the two murderous females that gushed green blood or the fact that Draco knew exactly how to kill them, and, in fact, was very adept at it. It was all very disquieting. 

Ginny hoped that there was some sort of rational explanation for the killing. Or at the very least she hoped she was very, very drunk and really passed out in her bed at the Academy. She whimpered, knowing that really wasn't plausible. She never drank. She certainly didn't drink enough to pass out. That meant that she really was witness to three brutal murders. And if that wasn't reason to get pissed, she didn't know what was. 

She wished she had time to sit down and carefully think over everything that happened. Ginny rarely ventured out of her dorm at the Academy. She couldn't take this much excitement all at once. Her brain couldn't process it quick enough. Draco didn't want to sit though. He didn't want to talk, to explain, or even to let Ginny recover. He just wanted to get the heck out of there. 

"Come on!" he shouted as he harshly grabbed her hand, painfully tugging her forward. "We have to get out of here!" He dragged her behind the ramshackle dwelling with such desperation she could almost convince herself he was worried about her, if she hadn't known better. 

"Wha--? Where are we going?" she asked, her voice shaking nervously. It was the first time she had said anything since she had found him. He didn't turn around. He didn't even respond. Maybe he hadn't heard her small voice over the ringing in his ears or maybe he just didn't care. 

He walked determinedly over to an empty stretch of grass that looked like it had once been a garden before it had been abandoned. He stood over it muttering to himself. Even when he had been waving a knife in front of her face, it hadn't crossed Ginny's mind that Draco might be truly crazy until that moment. She considered speaking up and telling him that there was _nothing _there but decided against it. The funny thing about crazy people was that they never believed you when you told them that they were crazy. Often they thought _you_ were crazy. Ginny didn't think a "You are!"/ "No! You are!" argument would be in any way productive. And there was still that knife to think about. 

Then, to her surprised, he once again took out his wand and waved it in the air reciting a spell that she didn't know. He brought the wand down with a flash of blue light. It wavered in the air for a moment and then grew bigger and brighter until Ginny had to cover her eyes. When she opened them again, there was a exceptionally large motorbike in the previously vacant space. 

Instantly she recognized the bike. She had never actually seen it before but she had heard more than enough about it. "This is Sirius Black's motorbike!" she exclaimed then frowned when something else occurred to her. "You _stole _it!" she hissed accusingly. 

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "I needed it more than he did."

"Oh," Ginny said. She wished she hadn't after she had said it. It sounded stupid. Her mouth often went faster than her brain. She had so many other questions to ask and things to say and now he seemed to think she had accepted "I needed it more" as a viable explanation because he had mounted the motorbike, turning his back to her. 

"Right then," he said as he started up the engine with a monstrous roar, "Get on." 

Dumbly, Ginny complied. He didn't wait for her to give him any sign she was securely in place or at all comfortable. Rather he took off and full speed into the night air without saying another word to her. She watched the tiny house he had been in fade into a little grey speck on the ground and finally get swallowed up by the clouds so she couldn't see it anymore. 

Ginny never enjoyed flying. She was scared of heights and, as a result, had never been a big fan of playing Quidditch. It was a game best enjoyed at a safe distance. And the motorbike flew much like a broomstick. Except the motorbike was bigger, it made a lot of strange noises and it felt like it was moving underneath her all the time. She didn't like it. She closed her eyes and wished for solid ground. Ground was nice. It was strong and flat. And, as far as Ginny knew, it _never _flew. 

She yelped as Draco turned sharply to the left. She couldn't be sure, since there was wind rushing in her ears but she thought she heard him laugh. Great, he was laughing at her. He turned again and she was thrown to the side. Another thing she didn't like about the motorbike was that it proved very difficult to stay onboard. On a broomstick, you could at least cling to the handle for dear life. There was no place for her to hold onto on the bike. Draco took up the space in front of her and he didn't leave much clinging room. 

Unless you considered holding onto _Draco._ Ginny really didn't want to do that. It would be awkward. For one thing they hadn't seen each other in years; five minutes ago he was brandishing a knife at her and, most importantly, they hated each other. They definitely weren't at the hugging stage of their relationship. But, on the other hand, if she didn't have anything to hold onto, she might fall off the bike and plummet to her death. While that would be less awkward, it would probably be more painful. 

Ginny sighed. Cautiously, she reached out and placed her hands on his sides. It wasn't hugging, per se. It was more 'touching' really, 'holding' at the worst. It was good. It wasn't really awkward and there was less death involved. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Then she opened them again after discovering she was hundreds of feet above the earth with only a man she didn't know, trust or even like. Relaxing was pretty much out of the question at this juncture. 

* * * 

Ginny shut her eyes tightly as Draco dipped closer and closer to Earth. The rapid downward motion made her stomach rise into her mouth. He made no attempt to cushion their landing. She bounced around on the back of the bike and shouted, "oof!" He didn't bounce. He remained anchored like a stone in his seat. 

He didn't say anything until the bike rolled to a halt. He killed the engine and stuck out his feet to keep the bike balanced. "Get off!" he barked before the roar of the motor had even died out. 

Ginny recognized the landing place as an out of the way spot near the Academy. It would be quite a walk back to her dorm, all by herself, in the middle of the night, with no mode of transportation. This made her exceptionally nervous. She hesitated in getting off the motorbike. Draco didn't seem to care about any of that. He turned around in the seat to glare at her when she didn't move. 

"Get _off_," he repeated more forcefully. He wished he had a door to slam on her. That was the only problem with motorbikes, there were no doors for slamming. Maybe he should've stolen the Weasley's Ford Anglia but somehow, being on the run in a Ford Anglia wasn't as cool. 

"W-what were those things?" she stuttered. 

He deflated, annoying that things weren't going the way he had planned. He hated it when things didn't go the way he planned because his plans were always better than everyone else's plans. "They're Alectos," he replied acidly, as though that answered everything, and if she didn't know what "Alectos" were then she was obviously mentally challenged in some way. 

Ginny blinked, bewildered. "What are Alectos?" she asked. 

Draco sighed again. The woman was stubborn as a mule! She wouldn't leave when he waved his knife at her. She wouldn't get off his motorbike when he said so. She didn't catch his superior tone and feel rightfully inferior. She simply wouldn't budge. What was wrong with her? 

"Listen, I'd love to sit here all day and answer every little question you can dream up, but I'm busy. I've got magical assassins on my ass and you're just not my top priority right now," he glared. "Now, _get off!" _He waved his arms at her in a motion that could only be described as "shoo!" 

But she didn't move. Ginny liked to know things. She hated to be in the dark because not knowing often lead to her making a fool of herself. So many questions were swirling around in her head, she just couldn't leave before they were answered. The confusion was greater than any fear she had of him. 

"Magical assassins?" she repeated meekly. 

He was becoming more and more frustrated with her. Again, he sighed. "Yes, magical assassins. Is there an echo in here?" 

"Do they want to kill you?" she wondered, wide-eyed. 

"No!" he shouted sarcastically, flailing his arms in the air, "they want to take me to tea, maybe buy me a new hat." He narrowed his eyes, hoping to intimidate her off the bike. "Do you know what the word 'assassin' means?" 

"One who kills, or attempts to kill, by surprise or secret assault; one who treacherously murders any one unprepared for defense; a hired murderer," she quoted in a whisper. At times, Ginny was known to think out loud. She hadn't actually meant to repeat the dictionary definition to him. 

"Think you're funny, do you?" he grumbled. 

"Oh-- no," she stumbled, "I... I just..." She searched for an appropriate response but decided any further explanation would just dig her deeper into her hole. Instead, she thought it best to change the subject. "Why do they want to kill _you?"_

"Well, gee golly, why do _you _want to find me?" 

"Because the Ministry needs to find you because you gave them information about You-Know--- oh." She blushed bright red. "You mean You-Know-Who sent them after you?" 

"Knew you get there eventually," he drawled lazily. "Now will you leave?" 

She didn't appear to hear that last bit because instead of getting off the motorbike she said, rather loudly: "But You-Know-Who is dead!" 

"I know that. You know that. _They don't know that." _ He folded his arms across his chest and stared at her as she processed this new information. Obviously she wasn't gone to leave that easily. 

"Well then how do you get them to stop?" she asked, puzzled. 

He rolled his eyes. "If I knew that, Weasley, then I'd be at home, wearing expensive robes and ordering my servants around, not sitting here with you, who will not leave no matter how many times you are asked." 

"So you've been running from them all this time?" 

He grinned, as if she had finally got the point. "I told you I needed the bike more than Black did." 

Ginny made a sympathetic face. He scowled in return. He didn't want her pity. Being pitied by a Weasley was like Rita Skeeter saying you were nosy, as far as he was concerned. "Right then," he declared, turning back around to start the bike, "it's been fun. But now I really must be off. See, there'll be more of them soon and unless you want to play too then you should _get off the bike _and toddle back to your happy, but not doubt very dull, life." 

"Why don't you just go to the Ministry for help? They could do something -- help you kill them. Or, at least, they could help keep you safe," she cried desperately. For some reason, she didn't want to let him fly off again. Not just because she would've failed her mission then but because she wasn't sure he'd be safe. 

He whirled around to face her again, his face contorted with anger. She didn't understand why he would be so mad, all she had done was suggest ways to help him. "They can't help me," he hissed. 

"Well there has to be some way to make them stop!" 

"They're not going to stop until they have my head." There was a note of finality in his tone which Ginny didn't like. Had he given up? Why was he still fighting then? None of it made any sense. 

"So you're going to do nothing? Just wait until they bring your head to You-Know-Who's dead corpse on a silver platter?" 

She watched his reaction to her words. The anger receded behind his mask of arrogance as if he were embarrassed to have shown her anything. He yawned exaggeratedly. "That's pretty much it, except they won't bring my head to him on a silver platter. I'm no Saint." 

Ginny heaved a great sigh. He was impossible, simply impossible. It was like talking to a brick wall, but brick walls weren't so damn condescending. Maybe he was more like an imposing, marble wall of some kind. The ones they put in libraries and mansions so you know you're supposed to be on your best behavior. 

"At least let me--"

"No." 

"But can't I--" 

"No." 

"I'll look them up in the library!" she all but shouted. "No one even has to know about it!" 

"They're not _in _the library," he rubbed his head as though she were giving _him _a huge headache. "The Dark Lord made them with his above average evil genius abilities." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes!" this time he shouted. Then he quickly composed himself again. "My Father told me about them when I was younger. He was trying to create a monster that would locate and murder the Potters. Something that wouldn't stop until the job was done. Something that wouldn't show any mercy. But he didn't complete them before that night... And then when I went behind his back, he got angry and started work again." 

"Oh..." Ginny whispered, suddenly wishing he'd be quiet but he wasn't finished. 

"And this time he got it right. They won't go away until I'm dead. So now that they found me, I really must be going. I'd rather not make things easy for them." He started the bike up again, revving the engine several times so she'd get the picture. 

Ginny stepped back away from the motorbike, tentatively. She wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't run her over if he had the chance. It was best not to gamble with her life that way. She had already met her near death experience quota for the day. Any further experiences and she'd edge Ron out in the "Weasley Who Nearly Died the Most" competition. 

"I hope you don't think me terribly rude for not walking you back to your dorm!" he shouted at her over the din and winked. They both knew very well that he wouldn't have walked her back to her dorm even if he wasn't being followed by psycho stalkers. 

And with that, he took off into the sky. It was quite odd to see a motorbike fly. Ginny had never thought about it before. She shielded her eyes from the street lights to watch him climb higher and higher into the air until he was gone. He never said good bye. He never even looked back at her. And Ginny couldn't help wishing he had. It wasn't just that she now faced the prospect of failing her mission entirely. But also because she was worried about him. She didn't know how he could possibly survive this type of assault for much longer. If only he'd let someone help him. Then maybe he'd have a chance. 

Ginny sulked back along the road to her dorm. She kicked pebbles foolish enough to cross her path. _What now? _she wondered. 

* * * 


	3. Afraid

**Disclaimer**: JK Rowling invented these characters and now has more money than the Queen. I invented nothing and have this pack of Life Savers. 

**NOTES**: I'm sorry this chapter took so damn long to finish. I actually ended up making about half of the original chapter the whole chapter just so I could get it out before Hell froze over. I'm a schlub and I suck. It's all my fault. I'd like to thank Fearthainn and Amy who make me laugh and draw me pornographic stick figures, as well as beta for me when the time comes. I'd also like to thank Liz who betaed last chapter but didn't do this one but is still cool nonetheless. 

* 

When Ginny returned to her dormitory, the first thing she did was collapse on her bed and bury herself in blankets. She found the softness and the familiarity of her blankets comforting. She used to have a blanket that she carried around everywhere when she was a child. Now she longed for those days again, when the scary monsters that lurked in the darkness outside weren't real and all she needed was her blanket to protect her. It never crossed her mind that the alectos would come after her, rather it was their mere existence that upset her. She had deluded herself into thinking that all the evil in the world, the same evil she had felt up close and personal at Hogwarts, was banished from the world when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was vanquished. 

And now she knew that it wasn't. There would always be something out there seeking to hurt and to kill. The world was a big and scary place. On the other hand, her comfy bed was small and soft. Part of her wished she could stay there forever. She _felt at peace there. Maybe she wasn't really safe; she could always accidentally strangle herself with her blankets or something odd like that. But she felt safe, wasn't that all that really mattered? _

Still, there was another part of her that knew she had to get up, go on and do something. She didn't know what that something was. Whatever it was, she was afraid of it. That's what being brave was all about. Any fool could rush into danger. It took courage to rush in knowing there was danger. At least, that's what they had always said in Gryffindor tower, and for some reason, the laughing voices of her brothers and her fellow Gryffindors were echoing in her ears. 

The Academy's hallways were empty this time of night. The cadets were inside studying, sleeping or partying somewhere. Ginny could hear the squeak her shoes made as she walked down the hall. It was unnerving. She wished she could yell at them to be quiet, but that'd be silly. They were still inanimate. 

She was about three steps from the library doors when they swung open. She had to jump out to avoid getting a doorknob in the face. (Which wasn't pleasant. Ginny knew. She'd experienced it once before.) Oliver Wood emerged from inside the library. He wasn't at all apologetic about almost smacking Ginny with a door. In fact, if he had smacked her he would've probably made sure she wasn't seriously injured and then killed himself laughing. Getting hit by a door is far more pleasant when you're not the one getting hit.)

"Oi! Weasley!" he shouted. His voice echoed down the empty halls. He wasn't known for his "indoor" voice. "What are you doing here?" 

"Euh..." answered a unnerved Ginny. She pointed weakly toward the library. 

Wood looked from her, to the library and back. "Good, good," he said thoughtfully. She hadn't told him that she had discovered where Draco was hiding. He just thought she was being her usual studious self, and working hard to crack the case. "Nearly there, eh, Weasley?" he asked. 

Ginny didn't answer besides doing her famous deer-in-headlights impression. Wood didn't seem to notice. It wasn't entirely unusual for Ginny to go mute from nerves. He flashed a million dollar smile and continued on his way, whistling a jaunty tune. 

* * *

The library was quiet this time of night.  The other students were at dinner, in town, partying, or having some sort of life.   They certainly weren't in the library on a Saturday evening, buried in a pile of thick, dusty books. It wasn't anything terrible unusual for Ginny to be found there, though she wasn't usually so studious. That was Hermione's bag. On the average Saturday night, Ginny would be sitting exactly where she was reading a novel or just staring off into space. She liked having the whole place to herself.  It gave her time to get lost in her thoughts without being disturbed. For some reason the presence of other people made her nervous.  She always felt like they were watching her or judging her.  

There was no time to worry about other people tonight. Nor was there time to stare into space. Ginny couldn't afford to waste time. She was determined to find out everything she could about what had happened to her earlier that day. The only problem was, she couldn't find _anything_.  She couldn't find reference to anything called 'alectos' in any of the usual places. They weren't even in the dictionary.  For all intents and purposes, they didn't exist. It was just like Draco had said. 

Oddly enough, she hated that he was right. It bothered her more than she had anticipated. She had been so looking forward to wiping that smug smile off his face. She hated the way he looked at her. She would've given him a piece of her mind when they had been talking, but at the time the vilest name she could think to call him was "jerky jerk."  That probably would've just made him laugh. Jerk. 

Ginny searched high and low for several hours. It seemed fruitless and she was beginning to become discouraged when she happened upon something in an unexpected place. It wasn't what she was looking for. At least, she didn't think it was. There was no mention of any known creatures, but rather, mythical ones: the Furies. 

* * *

Draco stared down through the clouds at the cities below him as he flew. All those people down there, they just went on about their lives; they didn't care about him or that he was in danger. They were safe, and that's all that mattered to them. He knew that if he had been in their position, and they in his, then he would've have cared. He could've been happy even knowing someone else was in danger. Things like that had never bothered him when he was younger; as long as it wasn't about him then it didn't matter.   

The wind whipped coldly around him. Draco didn't even bother to shiver. He was used to it by now. 

_It had been a cold day. The air smelled like snow, and the ground was frozen white-solid from the frost. It crunched as he walked briskly across the grounds, looking around furtively for any sign of danger. No one was in sight, yet there was something beside the cold that was chilling his bones. _

He tried to force himself to look straight ahead, out at the night sky. He wondered if they were out looking for him again. Or was it too soon? Funny, he couldn't remember what time it had been when they had attacked. It had been so long since time had any significance. 

_The ancient grandfather clock in the hallway tolled the hour as he shut the door. He had thought he'd be safe here, his home. Something inside him told him he was mistaken. He had the sudden urge to run. He struggled to get his nerves under control, like his father had always taught him. He told himself that was foolish. He wouldn't allow himself to be frightened like some squib or Muggle. He was Draco Malfoy, the name itself commanded the utmost respect. Haughtily, he tossed his nose into the air and ascended the stairs for the last time. _

Weasley was probably back at her Academy by now. It was stupid of her to come looking for him. She didn't know what she was getting into. Hadn't his family caused her enough pain at Hogwarts? Was she really looking for more? Gryffindors were so thick. They'd jump off a cliff if they thought they could get some glory out of it. 

There was no question in his mind that was what she wanted. She wanted to get her name in the _Daily Prophet. Ginny Weasley – the woman who found the evidence that put all those Death Eaters away forever. Maybe she would get a medal out of it. Everyone would call her a hero, say she was brave. They were all alike. They didn't care about anything else but their foolish hunt for "justice." _

He wondered if there was such a thing. 

_There was blood all along the hallway. So much he didn't think one person could bleed so much. Pools of it so dark he thought it was chocolate at first. And then he saw the footprints. They tracked through the gore toward the bedroom at the end of the hall; whoever had done it hadn't even bothered to keep their feet clean. The hardwood floors, the rugs, everything was covered with it. Everything was ruined. _

_The bedroom was worse. It was splattered like ink all over the walls and dripped over the side of the bed staining the green bed black. It dripped and dripped; it wasn't even dry yet. It had all been timed perfectly so it would be fresh for his eyes. _

_They could've done it easier. The Killing Curse left no traces, no blood. No one had to get dirty. But would the bile rise so quickly in his throat then? Would she be imprinted on the back of his eyelids forever if she just looked like she was sleeping? And more importantly, would he know what they had in store for him when they finally caught up with him? _

_No, they had wanted to send him a message. His mother's glassy, lifeless eyes telegraphed that message to him loud and clear. It couldn't have been more obvious if they had written him a note in her blood. _

_You're next, traitor. _

Ginny wanted him to go into hiding. So had Narcissa. She thought that she could hide him herself. She didn't agree with his actions but he was her son. Her only son. She wouldn't throw him to the wolves. She didn't want to see him murdered.

Irony sucked sometimes.  

"Oh, bloody hell," he cursed, and grudgingly turned his motorcycle around.

* * * 

No one ever made noise in the library, the evil hellbitch of a librarian made sure of that. She made Madam Pince look like a fluffy kitten. Ginny turned her pages quietly, feeling as though the rustling leaves could be heard all throughout the building. Every time she did, she winced, afraid of raising the librarian's ire. The rumor was she once kicked a boy out for breathing too loudly. Ginny was certain it was true. 

The silence made it all the more surprising when Ginny hear a loud crash a few rows away. She jumped out of her skin, wondering who would dare offend the library gods in such blatant display of disrespect. 

She got up, with intentions of shushing them, lest she get in trouble as well, when she saw them: the same women she had seen earlier that day. The _exact same women. The first thing she thought was, "Didn't Draco kill them?" The second thing was, "RUN!" which she did.  _

The women said nothing, only drifted forward with leg-less grace. 

Forgetting all about the "thou shalt not make noise" library commandment, Ginny screamed for help with all her might, shattering the quiet as though she had hit it with a sledgehammer. She dashed through the stacks, hoping to lose them in the maze of books. 

But when she looked up, one of them was standing directly in front of her. She had no time to ponder how bad guys always seemed to do that. The woman reached out with thin, bony, almost skeleton-like hands and grabbed Ginny's upper-arm. 

Ginny felt the pain rip trough her arm. She wanted to scream but found that the sound stuck in her throat and it only came out like a combination of a cough and a groan as she fell to the floor of the library. She lay there, staring at the ugly pattern carpet of the library, thinking about how if this was going to be the last thing she'd see before the abyss descended on her, someone could've at least rubbed the stains out of it. 

* * * 

While she was out, Ginny dreamed about home. The Burrow. Her little hole in the ground, where she was safe from predators under her fluffy duvet and mother's watchful eye. It gave her the feeling of being wrapped in something warm and made her stomach feel tingly, the way it did when you were truly relaxed. 

Or when you're barely conscious and need to throw up because someone kicked you in the gut. Whichever. 

The first thing she noticed when she woke was the pain. It was sharp and constant and spread throughout her arm. She knew, without even trying, she couldn't move it. The only way she could think to describe it was with lots of violent, creative swearing. The kind her twin brothers used when they were angry. And drunk. And out of hearing of their parents. 

The next thing she noticed was Draco. 

He was standing over her, unsure what to do with her now that he was there. There were dead, of course. He had become quite proficient at killing them. Lucky for her he had arrived in time. "I almost didn't come," he said, stonily. 

Unsure how to take this, Ginny didn't respond. She was grateful he was there. He had saved her life. Somehow, throwing her arms around him and weeping for joy was not the right course of action. He rather looked like he wished he hadn't bothered at all, but was being forced to, like a schoolboy learning his lessons. 

She looked down at the stained carpet and tried not to think about the pain in her arm. Funny how when one bone was broken you couldn't remember that there were hundreds of other ones. "I thought… I mean… They were after _you_." She wasn't accusing him of anything, sending them after her or getting her in danger. It was more like she couldn't fathom why they would want her. 

"The Dark Lord gave orders to kill anyone who tried to help me," he said simply, then added, more thoughtfully: "They've done it before." 

He didn't care to elaborate any further. And Ginny, more worried about her arm, didn't care to press him. 

She winced. "My arm," she said, "I think it's broken."

"Oh," he replied, actively unconcerned. 

"I need a Healer," she announced through clenched teeth. 

"No!" he shouted a bit too loudly. "No healers. They ask questions," he explained, in a slightly more reasonable tone. "Like, 'What's your name?' and 'Gee, how did this happen?'" 

Ginny sighed. "You don't have to go. We have an infirmary here at the Academy. I'll tell them I fell on the way to the library; they'll fix me right up and I'll be ready for Auror training tomorrow. Good as new." 

Draco made a sour face. "Actually… about that…" He hesitated, thinking about the alectos, his mother and the time he'd spent on the run. "See, they'll be back. And we have to run or they'll catch us. And they'll kill us, which probably won't be pleasant. So you should call up your Professor or whoever and tell them you won't be in class, well, ever again." 

"What?!?" she exploded, only to remember that she was in horrific pain. "No, see, I've been training and I'm almost finished with school. This is an assignment. I had to find you. I've found you. Now I have to take you to Wood and then it'll all be over and I can become an Auror. Like my brother." 

"Listen," he hissed, "Unless you want this Wood fellow to become a target too, I'm not going anywhere but away. And if you've got a lick of sense in you, despite your questionable breeding, then you'll go too." 

It was the urgency in his voice, not the crack about her family, that made Ginny want to cry. She had seen the assassins up close twice now, and she knew in her heart that he was right; that he was trying to save her for some reason she didn't quite grasp. But she didn't want to leave her life, her school and her family behind to go on the run with Draco Malfoy, who she didn't even _like_. She didn't want to be a target of murders. She didn't want her life in danger. But she didn't want to put Wood, or anyone else's life in danger either. 

Draco glared at her. 

"All right," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "but you have to promise me you'll help me think of a way to stop them." He opened his mouth to say something; she cut him off. "I know you don't think they can be stopped. Just promise you'll _try, because if I have to spend the rest of my life running scared without ever being able to see my family again, I'll let them kill me." _

* * *


	4. Blood and Whisky

**Disclaimer**: JK Rowling created most of these characters. I thank her for doing so because they've brought joy to my life. However, they've brought no money so don't sue me. 

**Notes**:  I'm sorry this took so long. My muses don't love me anymore. You can send all your hate mail to them. This chapter is dedicated to Fearthainn. (Good beta! Biscuit for you!) It was a gift for her because she keeps bugging me about making Draco and Ginny snog. 

*

            "So how's this going to work?" Ginny asked, finding that she needed to practically shout to be heard. Draco had long strides, and very determined ones at that. She could barely keep up. 

            "We find somewhere far enough out of the way that they can't find us. Then you can do whatever you want." For someone who had just saved her life, he seemed to care very little about what happened to her. 

            They came up to the motorbike, parked hastily in front of the library. She wondered how he found her in time. She wondered why he came back. There were a lot of questions. She put her hands on her hips and picked the most pressing one. "And you're just okay with this plan? Lots of running," Ginny scoffed. 

            Draco threw his lean leg over the side of the bike. "Let's have less talking and more fleeing for our lives," he grunted. "Unless you want to wait for them to come back. Feel free." 

            She opened her mouth to say something back but found no words, just a creeping fear in the back of her neck and a sharp pain in her arm. They would be back. And they hadn't meant to hit her in the arm. Frightened, she hopped on and shut up. 

* 

            Ginny clung to Draco's back as the bike ascended into the sky. She closed her eyes. The farther they got from the library, the more she allowed herself to think about her arm.  It hurt like she couldn't describe and it was still bleeding. She the fabric of her cloak as tightly around her arm as she could without taking the whole thing off. It was so cold in the air. She felt herself shiver underneath the force of the cold night air.  

            She swayed and clung to Draco even tighter, barely registering the way he shifted underneath her touch.  She didn't remember it being so cold last time she had flown on the back of the bike. It hadn't been so hard to hold on then either. She found herself leaning to her right; beneath her were the bright lights of the City. It was as if she were inching closer and closer to the lights, like fairies that lured you into the forest never to be seen again. 

            She started, abruptly shifting herself in the seat. Her heart was racing. 

            "Draco…" she moaned too softly for him to hear. 

            Her cloak was all wet now.  She couldn't figure out why. She hadn't had anything to drink on this flight.  It was all thick and goopy and her black cloak shone red in the moonlight wile the fairy lights of the city below still beckoned. 

* 

            "You gotta stop passing out," he said when she woke up. "That's twice tonight I've saved your life," he said it like he should give him some sort of compensation. 

            "Ow," was all Ginny could reply. 

            "You should've told me you were bleeding." 

            She gritted her teeth. This was _her _fault now? "You should've noticed."

            With effort, Ginny sat up in bed. The bed, she realized, was in a small room, presumably a seedy hotel. Everything was very brown and dirty. Pointedly, she ignored Draco, who had the nerve to keep _looking _at her. She tried a few simple healing charms she knew from school. Nothing worked. 

            Exhausted, she collapsed onto the bed once more. Everything hurt, especially her arm. She hadn't been awake for more than ten minutes and she was all ready to fall asleep again. 

            "Their blades are magical," said Draco. "You can't fix the wounds with charms." 

            "Thanks for telling me that before," snapped Ginny. He was so irritating with his sitting there and being calm and not bleeding. 

            She flopped her head on the pillow, listening to whatever cheap material was in it crinkle beneath her head.  The sheets were hard. She thought about her soft bed at the Burrow, with her pillow so fluffy her head sunk into it like a rock in the ocean.  And the more she thought about her home the angrier she got. 

            Bloody Draco. Bloody Draco who brought her here. Bloody Draco who almost got her killed. Bloody Draco who didn't know how to fix her arm. 

            And bloody arm that… was bloody. 

            The chair scratched loudly when Draco got up to leave. He said nothing as he went. Bloody Draco, leaving me here while I'm injured, was the last thought she had before she fell asleep again. 

* 

            She blinked. The pillow protested beneath her head. She tried to move her arm but found it too painful. Excruciating was the word she was looking for. 

            "Hey." He was back. 

            "Hi," she whimpered. She felt tears in her eyes. Irrationally she cried, "I think my arm is going to fall off!"

            "Erm, don't worry," he murmured in an oddly hollow voice meant to comfort her. 

            "Don't worry, he says," she scoffed. 

            "All right, I take it back: worry. Worry a lot."

            It hurt to chuckle. "Stop that," she grumbled. 

            "What?" he wondered what he had done to offend her now. She was always getting offended at everything he did. He wanted to grab her and shake her and say, "I saved your bloody, worthless, Weasley life!" But then she looked so pale and fragile underneath the dirty sheets. And if he shook her then she would break into little pieces. Then who would he tease? 

            "Make me laugh," she explained. "It hurts." 

            "Oh," said Draco, feeling foolish. "Well, erm. I have something for you. It'll make you feel better." 

            He held up a bag, paper with no distinguishing features on it whatsoever. There was a bottle inside. Ginny sighed, hoping it was some potion he had discovered cured the Alecto wounds. Draco had been good in potions, she remembered Ron saying. He was Snape's favorite. Maybe he made it himself. But then why was it in a bag? 

            "What is it?" she asked, peering curiously at the brown bag. 

            "Ogden's Old Firewhisky." 

* 

            Ginny was in a strange hallway. She didn't know how she got there. It was all brown and wobbly. After more examination she decided it probably wasn't the hall that was wobbly. It might be her. But then again, you never knew with halls. They were tricky little buggers. 

            It was hard to think about it. Thoughts were hard to hang onto. They slipped away from her like they were greased. She felt like she was in a padded universe. She was dimly aware of the pain in her arm, but it took too much effort to focus on it. If she thought about that, they she couldn't think about other things like how nice Draco was being to her and how to walk in a straight line. That was harder than it looked. It was a good thing she didn't have to chew gum too. 

            Her head felt very heavy. She had never been aware of its weight before. All she really wanted to do was lie down and sleep. A bed sounded amazing right about then. Lying down required so much less work than standing up. 

            "Why are you out of bed?" Someone asked behind her. 

            She giggled. "I lost it." Tricky bugger. 

            It was him, she realized belatedly. Draco. 

            He was surprised when she reached out to run her fingers through his hair. He didn't dare move any part of him but his eyes, which frantically looked about for the people whose idea of a joke this was. She wouldn't do this on her own. Someone must've put her up to this, he thought. Only a second later, he realized that _technically _that someone had been him when he foolishly handed her that bottle of firewhisky. 

            Ginny picked up a lock of his hair and rubbed it between her fingers. It didn't make a sound as she twisted it. "Soft," she said astutely, in a slightly wobbly voice. 

            Draco didn't know how to reply. "Uh huh," he said vacantly, looking for a way to make his escape without offending her. Maybe he could just throw her down on the ground and make a run for it. Chances were she was too drunk to remember in the morning. 

            But there was still that chance that she would remember. For some reason he _really _didn't want to make her mad at him. Not now.

            "Maybe you should go to bed," he suggested tentatively. 

            He really was being nice to her. She couldn't figure out why but he was suddenly very protective of her. If she had been capable of thinking about it for any length of time, she would've been concerned. Instead she was more interested in his hair. It really was amazing. She had never seen hair so naturally light before. She half expected it to feel like hay, as if it had been bleached beyond repair. 

            She giggled. At first, he thought she was laughing at his suggestion. Then she kept giggling, and giggled some more for good measure. She probably hadn't even heard him. "You have blond hair," she said like it was the funniest joke in the world. "I have red hair." Again, she giggled and swallowed hard, trying to force the complicated words out. "Wanna switch? Don't like red no more." 

            "You _really_ should go to bed." 

            "Wanna come with me?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. She burst into more peals of laughter at his reaction. "You're too good to be Malfoy." 

            He didn't know if that was a compliment or not, so he decided to ignore it. He also chose to ignore the part of him that honestly considered taking the inebriated Ginny Weasley up on her giggly offer. _I am a man_, he told himself, like it was an excuse. 

            "That's enough for you," he said, confiscating the bottle. For someone so small and so drunk she sure did have a vice like grip on the bottle. He tried to push her gently onto the bed, hoping once she closed her eyes it would be too hard for her to open them again. He knew he should've covered her in a blanket or removed her shoes or something. Nice guys did that. He wasn't so nice. 

            "Don't wanna," she slurred, trying to sit up. She wobbled so you'd think she was doing an exaggerated impression of a drunken person. He imagined she didn't imbibe alcohol very often. 

            "Just because you're drunk doesn't mean you can be stereotypical," he admonished, shaking his head at her and pushing her more firmly onto the mattress. 

            And then, with a sigh, he left her alone to sleep it off. 

*


End file.
